


If You Give Malfoy a Muffin...

by The_Chronic_Cryptid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: "Goodnight Moon" Reference, "If you give a mouse a muffin" reference, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gift Giving, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Sassy Draco Malfoy, So many gifts, Sweet Draco Malfoy, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronic_Cryptid/pseuds/The_Chronic_Cryptid
Summary: If you give Malfoy a Muffin...Then, he’ll feel obligated to return the favor by giving you a gift. A better gift, of course.And it goes on, back and forth, until suddenly the gifts hold more meaning than a favor or one-upping each other.Because if you give Malfoy a Muffin, you’re going to get a lot more Draco to go with it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 56
Kudos: 832





	1. Chapter 1

Something plopped on the table in front of Draco, making the eighth year jump in his seat. He peeked over the top of his textbook at a brightly spellowrapped muffin. Nose wrinkling, Draco glanced over to Harry Potter. The Gryffindor bit his lip, offering Draco a crooked smile. 

"What the hell is that?" He asked, suspiciously eyeing the baked treat before his narrowed gaze flicked back to Harry.

"It's a muffin, Malfoy," Harry responded. His green eyes danced behind his glasses in silent humor. Draco let his book fall to the table, nearly squashing the baked treat but Potter's seeker reflexes kicked in and rescued the proffered gift. Harry set the muffin back on the table in front of Draco.

"Unlike you, Potter," Draco drawled, "I'm not blind. I know it's a muffin. I want to know why in Merlin's name it's sitting in front of me?" 

"Oh right, err well..." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, tanned skin flushing.

"Get on with it," Draco ordered.

"I baked them and had some extras. Thought you'd like one. It's Sweetest Day." Harry shrugged further flushing under the Slytherin's scrutiny. 

"Is that some sort of muggle holiday?" Harry nodded, "And you just give people gifts, just because?" He drawled softer, cocking his head in Harry's direction. Another nod. Draco lifted the muffin, spellowrap crinkling in his fingers. 

"I'll let you get back to your book, see you later." Harry turned on the heels of his grubby muggle trainers and bolted from the library. Draco rolled his eyes. His gaze followed the Gryffindor's hasty retreat until he disappeared into the hallway and out of sight. 

Glancing around for the castle librarian, Draco propped his book up on the table to hide the muffin. Though many of the school's restrictions were lightened in their eighth year, Madam Pince did not take kindly to crumbs on books or the sounds of chewing in her quiet library. 

If this were any other year, Draco would have banished the muffin on sight. But everyone was on friendlier terms these days. He knew Potter wasn’t going to try to poison him or anything. Not that it would be the Gryffindor’s nature to try. They shared a common room, after all, and even engaged in a few games of chess and pick-up quidditch from time to time.

Gifts were something new, however. Friendly or no, he didn’t like the idea of owing Potter anything. Part of him hoped the muffin was horrid. Then he could toss it and forget about the whole thing. Draco bit his lip, propped up his book on the table, and unwrapped the muffin as gingerly as he could behind it. He held his breath, flashing a winning smile at the librarian when she shuffled by. 

Pinching off a bite of the spongy muffin, Draco lifted it and sniffed. Something nutty and chocolatey with a hint of orange wafted into his nose. He nibbled the crumb. A moan slipped out of his lips before he could stop himself. Merlin, the golden boy could add baking god to his accolades. Mouth watering, Draco pinched off another bite of muffin and another until he polished off the treat. 

Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and banished all the evidence of his stealthy snacking. Dammit, he owed Potter a gift. 

* * *

Draco sat at the end of the eighth year table, chin propped up by his elbows. The sliver of a table crammed into the corner of the Great Hall offered the best vantage of the rest of the room, and Draco used it to watch Potter. 

It was nearly a week since the day of what Draco coined the Muffin Incident and he’d yet to come up with a suitable gift to fulfill his quid pro quo with the Gryffindor. And while he was certain Potter had forgotten about the gift, Draco hadn’t in the slightest. But what did you give the boy who had everything? 

Draco’s nose wrinkled at the sight of Potter’s battered trainers. Correction, the boy who could have anything he bothered to buy himself. But shoes were hardly an acceptable present, and not of similar value to the original gift. He scraped the side of his porridge bowl to drown out the frenetic chatter brewing in the hall. 

It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Draco had almost forgotten. If he could come up with a suitable gift, the trip would be an ideal time to acquire it. Redoubling his efforts, Draco strained his ears to catch the hushed conversation of the Golden Trio.

“You should go, Mate,” The Weasel clapped Potter’s shoulders, spraying crumbs coated in orange marmalade across the table from his mouth with each word. Lip curling, Draco was glad to see Granger mopping up the mess. 

“Disgusting, Ronald. But he’s right, you should come.” Potter shook his head in response. He bent his head, mumbling something into his cooling porridge, “They might leave you alone this time. Honestly, is it so bad they want to thank you?” Draco couldn’t catch the next set of mumbles either, but he got the gist of the conversation, “If you’re sure, Harry. Well, why don’t we all have a picnic by the lake instead?” 

That seemed to perk up the sulky Gryffindor. He offered a half-smile, eyes shining behind his glasses in gratitude.

Draco’s manicured eyebrows rose, head cocked to the side. It seemed his Gryffindor courage was faltering at the idea of being harassed by the grateful public. He clapped his hands together and hurried out of the hall, abandoning the remains of his breakfast. 

That night in the common room, he shoved a brimming basket of Honeydukes sweets onto Potter’s lap. The Gryffindor jumped, eyes widening at the gift.

“Malfoy,” Harry’s voice faltered, “what is all this?”

“Sweets, Potter. I know you didn’t go to Hogsmede today, so I figured you’d like some.” Draco crossed his arms, a flush creeping through his cheeks.

“Not blind Malfoy, I know they’re sweets. Why-”

“I’m returning the favor for the muffin. Now we’re even,” Draco drawled.

“But-” Harry sputtered. Before he could form any sort of thoughts into words, Draco turned on his heel and flounced toward his dorm. Harry sighed, watching him go. He ran his fingers over the brightly colored sweet wrappers. Malfoy wasn’t supposed to return the favor. It wasn’t even a favor, really. He only gave Malfoy a muffin.

He tore open a chocolate frog and caught the wriggling thing in his mouth, holding it there until the chocolate melted and coated his tongue. At least it was settled now. Like Malfoy said, they were even. 

* * *

Draco’s forehead crinkled in focus. Slughorn’s pedantic lectures were more like tangents mixed with the occasional important piece of information. The blond’s head pounded. Gritting his teeth, Draco ground his quill so deeply into his notes that its nib snapped off. 

Ink sprayed across the parchment, ruining Draco’s spidery print beneath globs of ink. Draco swore under his breath. He snatched up a fresh piece of parchment and tried to blot up the ink. It spread across the worktop, coated his fingers, and stained his nail beds. 

Glancing around, Draco slid his wand out of his pocket and banished the mess off his table and hands. Belatedly realizing he banished his quill in the process. He shook his head, searching through his school bag for another when something tapped on the table in front of him. Draco glanced up, eyebrows furrowed at the quill perched on the table in front of him. 

Eyes narrowing, Draco craned his neck toward the desks behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught sight of a certain scruffy Gryffindor diving back down into his own notes. Potter offered a sheepish shrug and even had the audacity to wink at the blond. Draco swallowed hard. His lips pressed together into a thin line, but he picked up the quill Harry Potter lent him and raced to catch up on his notes.

Potter had good taste in quills, it seemed. It was fairly expensive and charmed to self-ink whenever he ran low. More likely it had been a gift from Granger. A set of quills seemed like the practical sort of gift she might give someone. Snagging another peek, Draco caught sight of Potter absently sucking on the feather tuft like it was a sugar quill. His grey eyes flicked back to the quill in his hand. 

_ Had Potter’s mouth been on this quill as well?  _

Draco startled himself with the realization that he wasn’t disgusted by the idea. No, not disgust, more of a healthy dose of intrigue. If he were common enough to suck on quills, which he wasn’t of course, then their lips would touch the same thing. That was a mere separation from a kiss. 

Pinker around the cheekbones than he’d like, Draco shook his head and finished the rest of his notes for the class with Potter’s quill in hand. Slughorn’s ramblings were broken up enough by his musings that it only left him with a dull headache by the time the class ended. Massaging his temples with one hand, Draco scooped the rest of his belongings into his school bag. 

He snatched up the quill and tried to hand it back to Potter, but the Gryffindor shook his head. 

“Mione gave me loads for my birthday over the summer. You can keep that one.” Draco opened his mouth to protest. They were supposed to be even, Harry had given him a gift and he returned the favor with the sweets. A much better gift in Draco’s opinion anyway, as Potter’s approached him as an afterthought. If he accepted the quill, then they weren’t even anymore. It was another gift to repay. 

The quill was nice and all, but it couldn’t be worth the effort to find another gift for the Gryffindor. But before he could get a word in, Potter’s green eyes flashed behind his glasses, “Want to play chess after dinner?” Draco shook his head.

“I told you after the last game, I’d only play you again if you practiced. Slaughtering you mercilessly isn’t as fun as I thought it would be,” Harry frowned. Draco held up a finger against Harry’s lips to silence his protests, “Don’t try to lie to me. We live together now, so I know you haven’t.” Harry stiffened against the Slytherin’s touch. 

Draco stared at his hand. He pulled his hand back, brushing it off on his trousers. Clearing his throat, Draco straightened his tie and tugged it looser around his neck, “My apologies. This class always makes me feel like I have gillyweed for brains.” He massaged his temples.

“S’okay Malfoy, I know the feeling. If you’re feeling better later we could do a seeker scrimmage?” Draco blinked, nodding dumbly before he really processed what the Gryffindor said, “Bollocks, I’m going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures. Feel Better, Draco.”

  
Draco stared wordlessly at the retreating brunet. Had he really just called him Draco after nearly eight years of Malfoy? His headache spiked again, making Draco’s fist tighten around the quill still in his hand. He owed Harry Potter another gift, after all. 

* * *

Broom in hand, Draco trudged down to the Quidditch pitch. Potter hadn’t specified a time before he ran off, but Draco was sure he’d be there. Shivering against the night chill, the Slytherin wound his scarf tighter around his neck. The dull ache through his temples still gave off the occasional pulse but based on how cold it was Draco guessed this might be their last chance to scrimmage before spring.

And how the Gryffindor would sulk if Draco let him down. Draco didn’t think he’d be able to handle a pouty Potter. The other boy was already insufferable.  _ Merlin’s pants, it was cold. _ Draco had half a mind to consider them even on gifts just for showing up. It was only a silly quill. Potter said he had loads of them, so the Gryffindor probably didn’t consider it a gift. If anything Draco had done him a favor by taking one of them off his hands. 

He rounded the path into the Quidditch pitch, catching sight of a scruff of dark hair rocketing above him. Draco ducked. He threw himself onto the damp grass and out of the path of Potter’s broom. Wet patches stained the knees of his trousers and grass stuck to the gel in his hair.

Harry landed, green eyes wide and flickering in the dull lights of the pitch. He tossed his broom aside and raced over to Draco. His warm, roughened palms brushed against Draco’s hands and helped him back to his feet.

“Potter,” Draco drawled, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say your human bludger impersonation was yet another attempt on my life.” He brushed himself down and crossed his arms. Harry bit his lip, having the graces to look sheepish for his actions. Though he knew he should be irritated, Draco found it almost endearing.

“Sorry Draco, I was practicing my Sloth Grip Roll and my glasses started slipping off my nose-” He babbled. Draco shook his head.

“Haven’t you heard of sticking charms or even one of those sport’s straps the muggleborns rave about?” Harry shrugged. Satisfied Draco was unharmed, he retrieved his fallen broom, straddled it, and took off again to circle the pitch.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, he mounted his own broom with as much dignity as he could muster, and took off after Harry. Pressing his knees together around his broom, Draco dug his wand out of his sleeve and cast a quick sticking charm on Harry’s glasses for good measure. He had no interest in being knocked off his broom midair.

Harry flashed him a grin, hooked his knees over his broom handle, and flipped upside down with a crow of delight through the dusk. Draco swallowed. He dove beneath the Gryffindor, wand at the ready for a cushioning charm, if he fell. But Potter righted himself again, eyes shining. 

“That’s wicked, Draco! S’way more fun to do tricks when I don’t have to worry about my glasses falling off.” Draco nodded weakly. The greenish tint to his skin glowing under the stadium lights. Harry dipped down to hover beside him, “You’re looking peaky.” A cool, roughened palm pressed against Draco’s forehead, “Blimey, you’re warm too. I think we should get you back inside.” Harry tipped Draco’s broom with his other hand, guiding them gently toward the ground. 

“I’m not sick, Potter.” Draco argued, but he didn’t try to take control again, “You just gave me a right scare doing stunts like that.” He snapped. Harry swung his legs to face Draco, sitting on the edge of his broom as it hovered just above the ground.

“M’sorry for scaring you,” He offered. A sharp breeze rippled through the pitch and Harry shivered. He crossed his arms against the chill, rubbing his forearms through his thin jumper. Draco sighed. He unlooped his scarf from around his neck and looped it tightly around Harry’s neck before the Gryffindor could shiver again. 

The second the green wool touched Harry’s skin, the house charm took effect. Draco’s Slytherin colors faded beneath the gaudy gold and crimson of Gryffindor. Harry stared down at the wool around his neck, stroking it softly, “Thanks, Draco.” Harry nuzzled the warm wool, the gentle scent of Draco’s lavender shampoo wafting into his nose, “Sorry it went all, you know, Gryffindor.”

Draco shrugged, hopping off his broom and beckoning Harry back toward the castle.

“Couldn’t have the pride of Hogwarts be cold and shivering, could we?” He strode forward, hearing Harry scramble behind him to catch up. A smug smile, that Harry couldn’t see, stretched across his lips.

In the doorway of the castle, Harry tried to return the scarf, “After it turned Gryffindor colors, I think not.” Draco wrinkled his nose for effect, swallowing down a smirk, “Even if it turns green and silver again. My skin might break out into hives. I’m quite sensitive, you know. You’d best keep it.”

“But-” Draco wouldn’t let Harry get a word in.

“Keep it, and I’ll even play a game of chess with you, if you shut up about it.” Harry’s lips clamped shut fast enough that Draco could hear the Gryffindor’s teeth click against each other. Harry laced his fingers through Draco’s and almost dragged him back to the eighth year common room before he could change his mind. 

Harry played miserably like always. Draco noted with pride the Gryffindor seemed to love the gifted scarf, even though he had his own back in his trunk. Potter stroked the tassels as he thought through his moves and snuggled into it when he thought Draco wasn’t looking. The Gryffindor left the scarf wound around his neck until it was time for bed, and even then he was reluctant to remove it.

  
Draco settled into his own bed, grinning for having settled the gift situation so quickly. He’d just owl order himself a new scarf in the morning. 

* * *

An envelope dropped beside Draco’s sausage roll, inches from splattering him with gravy. He rolled his eyes at the mail owl and tore open the letter. His eyes narrowed as he read.

_ Dear Mr. Malfoy, _

_ Regarding your order of one premium wool Hogwarts uniform scarf with automatic house color charms. Unfortunately, we are not able to fulfill your order at this time due to a steep increase in requests. They are back ordered until December at the earliest. We apologize for any inconvenience this causes but rest assured we will fill the order as soon as we are able.  _

_ We did attempt to pass your order along to Gladrags, but it would appear they are experiencing the same shortage and would not be able to deliver you one any sooner.  _

_ All the best,  _

_ Madam Taylor Malkin of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions _

Rolling his eyes, Draco scrunched up the missive. The least she could do was offer him some sort of coupon for his troubles. He could always steal one of Blaise’s spares, but that was hardly the point.  _ How did all occasions not include when you give your house scarf away to a Gryffindor because you once again want to fulfill the quid pro quo you found yourself in all because of a baked good?  _

He dropped the letter to the table and stalked out of the Great Hall. Harry looked up from his lunch when the doors slammed. Eyebrows scrunched beneath the frames of his glasses, Harry leaned over and snatched the piece of paper before it vanished with Malfoy’s dishes. 

He spread out the parchment, eyes narrowing as he read. Harry frowned at what he read. He crumpled the letter again and let it be swept away with the dishes. It had been Draco’s choice to give Harry the scarf and not take it back, but for Draco to have to go without for months seemed silly. 

He finished his lunch and raced up to the eighth year dorms, not emerging again until well after dinner that night. Harry slipped back into the common room with something bundled up against his chest. Draco curled like a cat around the textbook in his lap, sitting with one of his legs thrown over the arm of his chair. He glanced up at Harry’s approach and cocked one of his eyebrows at the bundle in Harry’s arms.

“You weren’t at dinner,” Draco said. Harry nodded. 

“Yeah, I was a little busy. I’m going to go get a snack from the kitchen, but I wanted to drop this off first. Here, this is for you.” He shoved the bundle into Draco’s hands and shifted foot to foot while the Slytherin peeled back the simple tissue wrapped around the bundle. 

Draco’s eyes widened when he realized what he was holding. A mottled green and grey scarf made of the softest yarn Draco had ever touched unfurled across his lap. A pair of matching, fingerless gloves were bundled in the middle of the scarf. He ran his fingers along the loops, finding a few uneven places scattered around. 

Eyes traveling to Harry’s hands, he saw that the other boy was rubbing them like they were sore. The Gryffindor had made him a scarf to replace the one Draco gave to him. It must have taken him the better part of a day.

“Mrs. Weasley taught me this summer when I was having trouble sleeping,” Harry explained, “It’s not perfect and it’s not a Hogwarts scarf, but it’ll keep you warm until your real one comes.” He flushed as Draco’s attention flickered back and forth between Harry and the gifts. The blond absently stroked the yarn, winding the scarf around his neck, “It’s also never touched anything crimson or gold,” Harry teased, searching Draco’s face for approval.

“Thank you, Harry. You didn’t have to go through all that effort for me, though.” Draco said, the grey in his eyes glowing brighter from the grey in the scarf.

“I wanted to,” Harry nodded. His stomach grumbled, interrupting anything else he might have said on the subject. Draco chuckled warmly.

“Well, I appreciate them. It’s a beautiful shade of green. Kind of like,-” Draco trailed off, flushing miserably pink. He coughed, but recovered enough to order, “Go eat something before you keel over.” Harry nodded and strolled out of the common room, practically glowing from the compliments on his work.

Draco pressed his hands against his hot cheeks. He couldn’t believe what almost came out of his mouth. This whole situation was so out of control it wasn’t even funny. And dammit, he owed Harry two gifts. 

* * *

Draco slid into the seat next to Harry just before the start of Transfigurations. The Gryffindor’s jaw dropped enough that the quill he’d been sucking dropped to the floor. Snickering, Draco leaned over and fished the quill off the stone floor. He dropped it on the tabletop between them.

“You don’t mind being desk partners today, do you?” Draco asked, head cocking to the side. He resisted the urge to tuck one of his fingers under Harry’s chin to force the other boy’s mouth closed, “I know you usually sit with Longbottom, but I heard he’s in the hospital wing after a Venomous Tentacula incident.” 

Harry nodded, his jaw closing. He leaned over to grab parchment and a quill from his school bag. Upon straightening up, Harry found two brightly colored rectangles of stiff parchment on the table in front of him. Squinting through his glasses, the Gryffindor picked up one of the rectangles.

“This is-” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“A ticket to the Puddlemere United vs Kenmare Kestrels match. Two of them actually, for this Saturday,” Draco drawled. His voice dropped into a mutter as McGonagall began her lecture, “Thought you’d like to go.”

Harry nodded, fighting to keep his jaw from dropping again. He tucked the tickets into the pocket of his robes for safekeeping. Shaking his head, he tried to keep up with the lecture and scrawl notes on his parchment. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to the tickets weighing down his pocket. It was one thing to give him a pile of sweets or a secondhand scarf, but this was extreme.

“But, Draco-” He stopped short when a shadow fell across his notes. 

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall swept in front of their table with her arms crossed, “while I appreciate the increased civility between houses lately, I’d prefer if it happened outside of my class. Are we understood?” Harry swallowed.

“Yes Professor,” He bleated. The professor turned away from them, but not before giving Draco a cold stare for his own part in the interruption. McGonagall resumed her lecture. A curl crept into the corner of Draco’s pressed lips. He waited until McGonagall turned her back to the class again to roll his eyes at the reddened Gryffindor. 

Harry offered a sheepish, lopsided grin in return. But quickly ducked his head over his work again and didn’t say another word until class ended, no matter how many times Draco tried to coax him. 

Draco crossed his arms on the table, resting his chin on his arms with his lips protruding ever so slightly. But he certainly wasn’t pouting. Malfoys didn’t pout. Especially regarding whether or not he received the attention of one Harry James Potter.

Class ended. Draco sat up and swept his things into his bag.

“Sorry for getting you scolded, Potter,” He said, straightening his tie, “I should have waited to give you the tickets until after class.” Draco watched Harry stiffen. It was an almost imperceptible difference, but the Slytherin’s keen eyes caught the subtle change. He softened, “I’ll make it up to you with a game of chess, no matter how out of practice you are.”

Harry poked his head up, eyes twinkling in a way that made Draco’s chest tighten. He took a shallow breath, tugging at the tie that suddenly felt like a vine of devil’s snare wrapped around his neck. 

“Sounds brilliant. I’m going to hang back and apologize to McGonagall. Catch you later?” Draco nodded. He squeezed the Gryffindor’s shoulder as he passed on the way to the door.

“Catch you later then, Harry,” Draco craned his neck to catch the Gryffindor’s softened posture at the sound of his name. Rolling his eyes, Draco made a note in his head to never call the Gryffindor Potter again.

Harry practically skipped into their common room. He slid onto one of the empty cushions beside the fire, practically vibrating in his seat beside Draco. Draco glanced at the Gryffindor over the top of his book and set it aside. He curled against the arm of the chair to meet Harry’s gaze.

“You seem in much better spirits.” Harry nodded, reaching his hand forward to tuck a loose strand of Draco’s hair back into place before he could stop himself. Draco’s eyes widened at the touch, he watched the Gryffindor flush, the heat from the fire radiating against the back of his neck, “Go on,” Draco drawled,“tell me what’s got you buzzing like a snitch.”

“Right, McGonagall gave me this.” Harry fumbled in his pocket emerging with a scratched-up ring. It’s clouded stone let off a dull flicker from the fire behind them. Draco snorted. He swallowed down another chuckle to offer,

“Congratulations, I’m sure the two of you will be happy together.” Harry scowled, shaking his head. 

“It’s our portkey for Saturday, you tosser! McGonagall approved the trip and arranged it for us,” Draco cocked his head to the side. Keeping his face as neutral as he could, he reached for his book.

“Right, I’m sure you and Weasel will have a lovely time at the match.” He watched the Gryffindor’s brows scrunch.

“Ron’s not coming. You got two tickets, so I thought...you know the two tickets and all...I thought we were going together.” Draco’s book fell off his lap. It was his turn to go slack-jawed. The Gryffindor wanted him to come along. 

_ It’s not a gift _ , Draco told himself. It doesn’t count as Harry giving him a gift, if the Gryffindor wants to waste one of his perfectly good tickets by giving it back to Draco. Even if he comes along, he’d really just be doing Harry a favor by accompanying him, “You do want to go, don’t you?”

Draco’s musings were interrupted by the Gryffindor’s question. He turned and stared into Harry’s wide, green eyes. He nodded, unable to form words.

Apparently, he was going to that quidditch match.

* * *

Draco rubbed his hands together for warmth, despite the warming charms knitted into the yarn of his gifted gloves. Though he was rooting for Puddlemere, his colors much more reflected the Kestrels. But Draco didn’t dare spell them in the case their color never returned to the original green. He loved the color too much.

His eyes drifted over to Harry. The Gryffindor’s eyes shined, framed by his rosy cheeks from a combination of the cold and cheering for Puddlemere. Draco was glad to see Harry wore his gifted scarf. He cast a subtle warming charm around them for an added layer of protection. Harry let out a soft sigh of pleasure at the sudden warmth. A noise that stirred something in Draco’s chest.

Merlin, as far as Draco was concerned that feeling alone was another gift Potter gave him. He bit his lip. Pushing himself to his feet, Draco muttered something about a drink and took off in the direction of the snack stand. 

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Draco cued up and waited for his head to clear. If potions with Slughorn made Draco feel like his head was stuffed with gillyweed, spending all this time with Potter made him feel like his stomach fluttered with pixies. 

Something warm brushed against his side. Draco stiffened. He whirled around, finding a wide-eyed Gryffindor at his side.

“Merlin Po-” Draco caught himself before Harry could flinch, “Harry.” The Gryffindor flashed him a grin.

“Sorry, decided I wanted a drink too.” Harry linked his arm through Draco’s. He strained on his tiptoes to read the peeling board of menu options, leaning against the blond when he nearly lost his balance. Draco caught Harry by his shoulders and set him right. His hands hovered on the Gryffindor’s shoulders longer than they should have. But Harry didn’t seem to mind. 

“See anything you fancy?” His hair brushed against Harry’s ear. Harry shivered, “How about cocoa to warm you up?” He nodded though he didn’t feel the least bit cold, eyes drifting around the stand to a collection of soft toys hanging on the stand. Of most noteworthy, an oversized hippogriff with a Puddlemere United scarf tied around its fluffy neck. 

Draco ordered two cocoas. He watched Harry reach his hand out toward a stuffed toy, but pull his hand back, “Are you going to get that?” Harry shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His eyes drifted down to the toes of his scuffed trainers.

“No, it’s silly. It just looks soft, is all.” Draco shrugged. He collected their cocoa off the counter and guided Harry back to their seats. Sipping his drink, he caught the Gryffindor taking another peek back at the toy. Draco’s grey eyes flashed. He pushed Harry’s cup into his hands.

  
“Here, drink your cocoa. I’m running to the lav before they start up again.” Draco set his cocoa on his seat and bolted. He dashed past the washrooms and back to the snack counter, hurriedly sliding the galleons across the counter for the stuffed animal.

He cast a shrinking charm on it, shoving it deep inside his pocket before returning to their seats. Harry watched the Puddlemere reserve seeker perform a flawless Sloth Grip Roll, diving into a Wronski Feint on the sidelines. He tugged on Draco’s arm to point it out, “I see it. Don’t even think about it during our next scrimmage, or I’ll never play you in quidditch again.”

Harry shrugged, grinning into his cocoa. They were quiet for the rest of the match until the Puddlemere seeker caught the snitch and sealed the victory for their team. Harry and Draco cheered with the crowd. Linking arms again so they didn’t lose each other, they fought through the crowd to get to a spot where they could use their return portkey. 

Draco noted with a smug grin, that Harry glanced almost mournfully at the spot where the stuffed hippogriff used to be. 

* * *

“Draco, don’t you think this passive-aggressive gift war is getting out of hand?” Pansy perched on the side of his chair, watching Draco wrestle with the unwieldy toy into a box that was just slightly too small with a cool gazel.

“It’s not passive-aggressive anymore. I really-” Draco faltered. He swallowed down a lump in his throat, “Just shut it and help me wrap this giant stuffed hippogriff, would you?” Pansy snickered into her hand, enlarging the box while Draco shoved the lid on and stuck it down with a sticking charm. 

“Does he feel the same way?” She asked. Draco shrugged. He tugged out a length of blue wrapping paper covered in twirling snitches. Pansy shook her head, transfiguring her hairpin into a length of golden ribbon, “You know you’re going to have to work it out sooner or later.”

“I know that, Pans,” Draco muttered. The tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he smoothed the paper over the box and sealed it with spellotape. He pushed the box at Pansy and watched her deft fingers whip up a thick bow.

“So, what are you waiting for?” She tucked a few pieces of his hair back into place, “Though it honestly makes me question your taste and I’m never asking you for fashion advice again, if that Gryffindor makes you happy, go for it.” Draco smirked. He wrapped an arm around Pansy’s shoulders. She batted him away before he could muss up his hair again, shoving the box into his hands. 

Swallowing, Draco steeled himself to knock on the door to Harry’s dorm. He heard scuffling on the other side of the door before it cracked open to reveal a pair of red-rimmed, watery green eyes. Draco pushed the door open far enough to slip through and closed it again. Harry swiped his eyes with the back of his arm. He dropped to his mattress, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“You know I was only joking when I said I’d never play you in quidditch again, correct?” Draco offered gently. He took a seat beside Harry on the mattress. The Gryffindor let out a wet chuckle, lacking most of its humor. Sniffling, Harry nodded. He glanced at the box on Draco’s lap.

“What’s that?” He asked. Draco set it in front of Harry. Harry sat up and leaned into Draco’s side to slide the ribbon off the box and pull back its paper. He lifted the lid and tugged out the stuffed hippogriff. Eyes wide, he turned to Draco, “That’s why it was gone when we were leaving.” He offered a weak smile, stroking the soft fur, “But, you gave me the tickets and now this… and I haven’t given you anything else.” 

Harry squeezed the hippogriff, resisting the urge to hide the remnants of his tears from Draco by burying his face in its wing. But the blond shook his head.

“You’ve given me plenty. If you want to do something for me, you can tell me what’s got you so upset.” Harry ran his fingers through the soft fibers. He sniffled.

“It’s stupid.” Draco stroked the backs of Harry’s hands with the pads of his thumbs and shook his head.

“I doubt it, but you always surprise me.” His words raised another wet laugh from the Gryffindor. Draco slung his arm over Harry’s shoulders, feeling him sag against his chest.  _ What a day and, really, what an October it had been _ . Draco startled, “Oh, Harry.” Draco squeezed him tighter, “It’s Halloween tomorrow. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded stiffly, lips pressed together, “That’s hardly a stupid reason to be upset.”

“I never really knew them.” He set the hippogriff aside on the bed and pulled his gaze up to Draco’s. The blond rested a hand against Harry’s cheek. Draco caught Harry’s tears before they trickled down his face. But more replaced them.

“All the more reason you’re allowed to miss them and think of what you lost. Especially around Halloween.” His tone gentle as his touch left Harry feeling like a piece of spun glass that could shatter on the spot. The Gryffindor shuttered, falling into Draco’s steadying embrace. 

Draco held Harry. He rubbed his back as he wept, swayed them back and forth until the wracking sobs became soft hiccups. The Gryffindor went slack in his arms, falling silent. Brushing aside a few stray pieces of dark hair, Draco found Harry had fallen asleep in his arms. 

He clicked his tongue, guided the Gryffindor down to his pillow, and pulled the covers around him. The tip of Draco’s tongue poked out as he slipped the glasses off the end of Harry’s nose. But he didn’t stir. Draco let out a breath, setting them on the side table where Harry would find them again when he woke. He moved the stuffed hippogriff beside the Gryffindor’s head, so it could watch over him. Before he crept out of the room. 

* * *

Draco paced in the common room, waiting for the Gryffindor to emerge. He nearly knocked over the basket beside the fireplace three times over. Granger glared at him over the top of her muggle novel. She shook her head and sent her bushy curls splaying across her shoulders.

“Do you mind, Malfoy? You’re creating a draft.” Draco squared his shoulders, a retort ready on his lips. But the words died at the sound of a door opening and the shuffling of feet. He whirled around to find Harry. Draco softened instantly, he took a step toward the Gryffindor, “Leave him be. This is a hard day for him and he doesn’t need any nonsense from you,” Granger ordered. Draco sneered over his shoulder at her.

“Hey there,” He offered his arm out, inviting Harry in if he wanted it, “feeling any better this morning?” Harry rubbed his face with the back of his sleeve hard enough to knock his glasses askew on his nose. He shrugged and took the invitation to press against Draco’s side. 

Draco shot a warning glance over the top of Harry’s head, daring Granger to open her mouth again. He tightened his hold on the Gryffindor. Perplexed, she shrugged in defeat and returned to her reading. Under the semblance of privacy, he basked in Potter’s warm and breathed in the honey scent of Harry’s shampoo, “Well, I have one last gift for you. If you think you’re up for a little trip?”

Harry cocked his head so he could see Draco’s face. But the Slytherin’s face was neutral enough that Harry couldn’t read it. He nodded, “Right then, go get dressed in something warm. I’ve already arranged everything with McGonagall.” 

Harry slid out from under Draco’s arm and bolted back toward his room.

“But if you’re not back in time, you’ll miss the feast!” Hermione called after him.

“Yes Granger,” Draco spat out through gritted teeth the second Harry’s door slammed shut, “that’s sort of the idea. Now, I suggest you return to your book and let us be.” Draco rolled his eyes as Granger buried an expression that was a strange combination of mollified and miffed between the pages of her book.

Draco donned his scarf, tugging on his second glove as Harry reappeared. Draco noted smugly that Harry’s eyes shined much brighter than before. It was still Draco’s gifted scarf rather than his original one that wrapped around Harry’s neck, “Ready?” He asked. Harry nodded. Draco scooped up the basket with one arm, linking his free arm through Harry’s, “Off we go, then.” Unable to stop himself, Draco drawled over his shoulder, “Have a lovely day, Granger.” 

He let the door slam before she could respond. Harry’s brows rose, but he didn’t comment on their way out of school or across the lawn to the outer perimeter, “I didn’t have time to arrange a portkey. How do you feel about side-along apparition?” He asked. Harry shrugged.

  
  


“Makes me a little queasy. I’ll manage. But, where are we going?” Draco shook his head. He chuckled at the soft pout creeping into Harry’s lips.

“You’ll have to wait and see. Hold on,” He ordered, but held Harry tighter against himself. anyway. The loud crack sounded through the lawn, tugging them away. Harry squeezed Draco’s arms. He pressed his eyes closed and didn’t open them again until the apparition spat them out into a damp patch of grass, sprawling. Harry and Draco wound up in a tangle of limbs. Righting himself, Draco glanced around the sparse lines of cottages and houses before he helped Harry back to his feet. He scooped up the basket, which thankfully remained undisturbed in their tumble to the ground, by its handle.

Harry glanced around the empty, but familiar surroundings of Godric's Hollow. Peering further down the road, he caught sight of the statue of his parents and his infant self. He turned wide-eyed to Draco. 

"You brought me here?" A blank expression lingered on Harry's face, lost in thought. Draco gulped. He stammered his reply.

"McGonagall mentioned you visited briefly, last year at Christmas, but I thought you'd like to come when there's no threat looming over your shoulder," Draco offered. He blanched, suddenly not sure his idea was a good one. Bristling from the bitter wind, he tightened his scarf closer around his neck, "We can go back if you'd rath-"

"No," Harry whirled around, eyes alight again. He gripped Draco's hands tightly in his, so much so that the blond fought back a wince, "This is exactly where I need to be." He softened his grip, offering an apologetic smile. Harry dropped one of Draco's hands, in favor of tugging him toward the little graveyard, "Want to meet them?" He asked.

Draco interlocked his fingers between Harry's.

"Of course. Lead the way," They walked together past the statue, down the road, and into the graveyard. Harry knelt beside his parents' graves. He wiped the grime away that built up since he and Hermione visited the year before and banished the dried up wreath Hermione made for them. 

Draco set the basket down on a dry patch of grass. He clasped his hands behind his back, watching from a polite distance as Harry spoke.

"Hi Mum and Dad," Harry began, looking shyly between the stones and Draco, "I know it's been a bit. But I want you to meet someone. This is Draco," He beckoned for Draco to join him, "I think you guys would have liked him. We didn't like each other much until our last year, kind of like you two. But now, you know..." Harry trailed off, flushing from embarrassment, as well as the chill.

"I'm trying really hard to make him happy, like he deserves," Draco muttered to the stones. He bowed his head, whispering something Harry couldn't catch. Draco slung an arm around Harry's shoulder again. He sat silently for a while and listened as Harry chatted with the stones about his life after defeating Voldemort. 

Some time into the one-sided discussion, Draco heard Harry's stomach rumble. He grinned and slipped himself away from Harry's side. Quiet as he could, Draco opened the basket. He laid out a soft blanket and a platter of sandwiches and other snacks the kitchen elves prepared for them. 

He slipped back over to Harry's side, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. Harry glanced up at Draco, eyes light, "Whenever you're ready, I've got a little picnic set up for us." Harry nodded.

Draco brushed his hand across Harry's cowlicks on his way back over to the blanket. A few more minutes passed before Harry's chatter slowed and the Gryffindor joined him on the blanket. He waited until the other boy had nearly finished his sandwich before asking, "Enjoying your visit with them?" Harry swallowed the final mouthful of his sandwich, nodding furiously. 

He threw his arms around Draco in a hug that sent them toppling onto the blanket. It took them a few minutes to right themselves. Only doing so, really, for fear of what the scene may look like to a passerby. Then Harry answered. He leaned against Draco's shoulders, his hair brushing against Draco's chin.

"Yes. It really was the sweetest gift, Draco." Draco snorted. He reached into the basket for the last treats he'd asked the elves to pack. With a smug smile, he brandished two brightly spellowrapped, baked treats. Harry snuggled in closer to Draco, rolling his eyes as the blond replied,

"And here I thought that was a muffin."


	2. Goodnight Stud Muffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking keeps Harry awake, but Draco has just the thing to settle his mind. He always does. You could say it's a gift. So, goodnight Stud Muffin

Draco groaned. One of his arms stretched out, reaching for Harry. But his fingers brushed the cool, rumpled sheets on the other side of the bed. Empty. Empty for quite some time from Harry's usual radiating heat. Blinking, Draco peeled open his sleep heavy eyes. He frowned, threw the blankets back, and shivered from the sudden cold wafting over him. His toes curled against the seeping cold of the stones beneath him. 

Fingers tracing the bumps raised on his pale arms, Draco tiptoed to his slippers and stuffed them on. He flicked his wand to his dressing gown. It drifted over to wrap around his shoulders. Draco tugged the collar up around his neck to ward away the cold. He shuffled from the room, wincing at the announcing squeaks of the door hinges. The noise echoed through the narrow hall of the Eighth-year dorm. It made Draco stiffen, but no one stirred. 

Tugging the fine, loose hairs off his forehead, he slid through the rest of the hall. After a near stumble over an abandoned Ravenclaw scarf and kicking someone's right shoe, Draco stood in the common room. His heavy-lidded eyes swept over the room before coming to rest on a shock of black hair. It peeked over the plush arm of Draco's favorite chair. Almost blending into the faded navy material. 

A faint smile forming on his lips, Draco crept around the side of the beanbag chair and dropped into his favorite armchair beside it. He took in his messy-haired Gryffindor, who curled around a battered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages at an angle that couldn't possibly be comfortable. The cuff of one of Draco's jumpers caught between Harry's lips. Shaking his head, Draco snagged Harry's wrist gently and tugged it away from his mouth. The muggle jumper had been a gift from Harry to him, and though he'd never admit it he snorted every time he saw the cartoon on it of a flexing muffin emblazoned with the words Stud Muffin. 

"I know it says muffin on it but you can't eat my jumper," He muttered. Draco dropped Harry's wrist in favor of stroking his hair. Harry shrugged. He closed the book, stowing it beneath the chair, "Shove over." He ordered gently. Grumbling, Harry complied. He let out a happy sigh when Draco's arms settled around him, "Couldn't sleep?" He asked. Harry nodded, his hair brushed against the underside of the Slytherin's chin, "You could've woken me up." The dark-haired boy shook his head, eyes far away.

"You looked too peaceful." Harry's tone almost wistful, "I was coming back to bed soon anyway." 

"Mmmm, is that so?" Draco squeezed him tighter, swaying them back and forth, "I didn't see you untangling from your little pretzel knot, there," he drawled. He snorted at Harry's shrug, "Nor did I see you flipping through that book of yours."

"Well, I was thinking about it, anyway." Harry arched his neck to press against the crook of Draco's shoulder and meet his grey eyes. The blond reached forward, brushing the hair off Harry's forehead. His fingers glanced over his boyfriend's lightning scar. 

"And what else were you thinking about, Muffin?" Harry's flushing cheeks framed his wrinkled nose. He shrugged. 

"Christmas holidays," Harry mumbled. He offered no other words. Draco nodded. His slender fingers twisted through the strands of Harry's wild hair, massaging his scalp and making the Gryffindor melt deeper into his arms. The blond continued his ministrations until Harry was seconds from drifting off to sleep. Keeping his tones soothing, Draco muttered.

"What about them?"

"Where we're going to go. I don't want another Christmas here or Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys are spending Christmas in Romania and Mione's going with them. And no offense but I never want to set foot in your manor ever again." Both shivered, holding each other tighter. Draco broke the silence. He slid one of his hands into his dressing gown sleeve, gripped his wand, and cast a low Accio. Moments later, they watched a piece of paper slip out from beneath the doorway of Draco's room. It flew through the hair, drifting into Draco's waiting hands. 

"I was going to wait until exams were over to surprise you with, but if it's keeping you up at night then I suppose I'll have to ruin it." Draco handed Harry the paper. Brows furrowing, Harry smoothed out the creasing on the muggle paper. It was a clipping from a newspaper for an apartment in Muggle London for rent. A picture of an exposed brick wall bathed in sunlight from a set of wide windows caught Harry's eyes. One of his fingers trailed around the picture, "I rented it for us, with some help from Granger on the muggle communication."

"It's ours?" Draco nodded, tucking Harry's head beneath his chin. He swayed him again, listening to his sniffles. 

"Ours," He affirmed. The paper crinkled in Harry's fingers. It drifted to the floor forgotten. Harry whirled around in Draco's arms. He straddled the Slytherin's lap, pressing their lips together. His fingers tangled in Draco's silky hair. He tugged gently through the blond locks to hold Draco even closer. Breathlessly, they released each other and collapsed against each other's shoulders. Draco recovered first. He leaned down to snatch up the paper, tucking it into his dressing gown for safekeeping. A grin flashing across his face, he scooped Harry into his arms in a bridal hold. Harry buried his face into Draco's chest to muffle his surprised shriek. Soothed by the low rumbles of chuckles, he peeked back up at Draco in time to hear him mutter, "Let's get back to bed."

"How do you always know what to say and do to make it better?" Harry asked. Draco shrugged. He pulled Harry in closer to swing his door open and carried him inside the room. Dropping Harry on the bed, Draco smirked and smoothed the sheets over him. They settled onto the mattress, curling their fingers together and their legs intertwined. 

Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair again, "What can I say, it's a gift. Now, get some sleep." Harry nodded. His eyes drifted closed. 

"Good night Stud Muffin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope this bonus ficlet finds you safe and healthy and brings you at least a little bit of joy. 💚

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,   
> This one took me a while to put together, but I had a lot of fun writing it in the end. I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think! Comments make my day and inspire me to write more. 
> 
> As always, please do translate or not copy to other sites!


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